It wasn't long before Samuel pulled up to an apartment building. Still he said nothing, but helped her out of the car. At the time, Wilkins though nothing of the fact that he was leading her to the back of the apartment building.
"I-is this where you live?" managed Wilkins, in a slurred voice.
Samuel didn't answer; he just tightened his grip on her wrist. Splashing through the after-rain puddles in the ally, they entered the building through a back door.
Wilkins tried to pull her wrist away from Samuel, intending to rub her chilly arms - she had left her coat in her car, and her car was back at the club – but he wouldn't let go.
I wonder what Spencer thinks of me now, she mused. The sly smile she donned suddenly disappeared as she remembered Lila staggering about and laughing manically. He probably didn't even notice she was gone.
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"Spencer! Spencer, l-let's dance!" stuttered Lila, leaning all over Reid.
"Li-la," moaned Reid, pushing her down into her seat for the tenth time.
Garcia stifled a giggle. "Reid," Morgan said, "maybe you should take Lila home."
"I'm planning on it," replied Reid, beginning to lose his temper over a ridiculous Lila, and Morgan treating him like he was a child. "I'm waiting until Wilkins comes back over here."
"Why?" Prentiss asked.
"I have to tell her something," he mumbled, wishing he could just tell them all to mind their own business.
He intended to beg Wilkins to stop acting the way she was. If it came to it, he'd tell her how he felt about her. Of course, he'd try to avoid telling her that. It's not that I'm afraid, it just that a club isn't exactly the most romantic place on Earth, he tried to convince himself.
"I wonder where she is, anyway," said Garcia, partly to herself. "I don't see her anywhere."
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"W-why'd we come here t-though the back way?" Wilkins asked.
He didn't answer; he took out a cardkey from his pants' pocket, and opened the door to his apartment. Finally he let go of her wrist, pushing her into the room. The only light on was a table lamp on the end-table beside the couch. He motioned for her to sit.
"Wait here," he mumbled in a low voice, and went into another room that she assumed was a bedroom.
Wilkins slowly eased herself onto the couch, leaning her aching head back into the cushions. That helped a lot. After a few minutes her headache eased up, and her thoughts became clearer; but then it dawned on her why she was here.
Oh no. No, no, no, she thought. I'm not going through with this. She stood up, the headache rushing back. I must have been nuts to even – THINK – of even doing it!
She slowly began to move towards the door. Ah, to heck with Samuel. I'm sure it's not the first time he's been walked out on.
She paused, at the door, her head getting dizzy. Suddenly, something cold and sharp was pressed against her throat! Wilkins gasped, and shook from the startle.
"Tisk, tisk," Samuel breathed into her ear, in a mocking tone. "You're just gonna leave me, without even telling me?" With the hand that wasn't holding the knife he swept her hair behind her, talking a moment to smell it.
Jerking back, hard, on her, he backed her away from the door. Wilkins just whimpered in fear. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't.
Still walking behind her with the knife pressed on her throat, he led her to the door of the bedroom door.
"Open it," he hissed.
With a shaking hand Wilkins pushed the door open. The sight that met her eyes sent fear pulsing through her body. The entire floor around the bed, except a small walkway to it, was covered with lighted dinner candles. On the bed lay a blood-red silk night gown.
"I usually don't go through all this trouble," he whispered, "but ya see, this town is special. This is where I was raised. Besides, you're such a pretty, innocent girl. You deserve more than the rest of them."
Wilkins mind raced with all the facts of their latest, transit case.
Sharp object. Girls from clubs. Rape. Murdered. And then she remembered the sketch. Oh, God, how could I have been so stupid?
Her fear was beginning to drive an adrenaline in her. She was not going to let this happen.
She clenched her eyes closed, and stomped as hard as she could on his foot with her stiletto. He let out a yelp of pain, loosening his grip on the knife. She thrust his arm away from her throat, causing him to stumble backwards. He stopped himself, wary of the candles he had lit.
Gaining back his balance, he turned his attention back to her. "You little-," he began, lunging towards her with the knife.
Taking advantage of what every girl knows, she kicked, hard, where it hurts. Wilkins was really beginning to like those stilettos.
Groaning in pain, Samuel Darwin stumbled backwards, dropping the knife, and barely avoiding the candles.
Wilkins paused, and picking the knife up from the floor, she staggered out of the bedroom, still dizzy from her drink at the club. She made her way as quick as she could to the door, but her dizziness was beginning to take advantage of her. She leaned her body against the door to steady herself, but just as she reached for the doorknob Samuel Darwin appeared behind her!
He slammed his fist against her head, causing her to crumble to the floor. She looked up wearily at the silhouette of her captor.
She almost gave up, then and there, but then she realized she had his weapon. She had the upper hand.
He roared when the long butcher-knife blade sank into his thigh.
Wilkins scrambled on hands and knees towards the dark room closest to her. Quickly standing when she reached it, she slammed the door behind her, and locked it.
It was a bathroom. She didn't take the time to turn the lights on; she just scurried about in the darkness looking for a window to climb out of.
There wasn't one.
Her mind became petrified, and she began to zone out, realizing that she was truly living a nightmare. Trudging mindlessly back to the door she leaned against it, and slowly slid down it, finally resting on the tile floor.
"Jonathan," she whimpered. She closed her eyes, her head spinning, partly from the alcohol, and partly from her fear. "Oh, Jonathan."
She had loved him. She had loved him more than life itself.
"Please," she breathed, wishing that the figure outside the door was simply her enraged fiancée, and not the psychopath that she knew it was. Jonathan would have simply waited about fifteen minutes before pleading through the door that he was sorry for his latest argument with her. She would come out, and he'd wipe the tears from her eyes, and place a loving kiss on the tip of her nose, before driving her home.
She opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto the stream of pale light pouring under the door into the dark bathroom. A shadow moved into the light, and she heard Samuel Darwin begin to stagger towards her hiding place.
No, not Jonathan, she began to think. Jonathan is gone. I loved him, so much, but he's gone.
She couldn't think straight. Her head throbbed so much that even the soothing thought of her ex hurt.
"Reid," she whispered aloud. "Spencer."
Samuel Darwin slammed his body against the door. His impact jarred her body, but she leaned harder against the door.
"Spencer," she said, louder.
Another impact. The lock was already rattling lose.
"Spencer, help me!" she cried.
"Come on out, honey," Samuel Darwin growled. "I know you're nervous, but I'll be gentle."
Another impact. The wall which held the lock was beginning to splinter.
Wilkins began to lose hope. Spencer wouldn't help her. He probably didn't even notice she was gone.
Another impact. The whole lock fell beside her, and skidded across the cold, tile floor before stopping at the far wall.
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Woohoo! :D That just may be the longest chapter I've ever written. ;] I'm estimating about three more chapters in this story, and the next may be relatively short.